


As through a mirror, darkly lit

by Leu (Karaii)



Series: Naruto rarepair generator [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Amorality, Gen, Two geniuses evil in context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karaii/pseuds/Leu
Summary: Orochimaru begins perfecting the Impure World Reincarnation jutsu by summoning its creator over and over from the dead.A character study that posits that Orochimaru and Tobirama are actually more similar than one might expect.





	As through a mirror, darkly lit

“Is this…my Reanimation jutsu?” Senju Tobirama flexes his flaking fingers experimentally. “How fascinating.”

Orochimaru’s smile is oily. “I am honoured you approve, Nidaime-sama.”

“I do not,” the dead man says simply, and body flickers. Orochimaru dodges the attack by bending his neck at an abnormal angle, simultaneously regurgitating the sword of Kusanagi and piercing Tobirama’s body to the wall.

“Too slow,” Orochimaru says, delicately wiping his mouth. “How unusual for you, Nidaime-sama. My sensei used to say you were the fastest shinobi he’d ever known.”

“Tch. You fucked up my technique, is all.” Tobirama attempts to squirm around the sword, but he cannot, his borrowed body already losing mobility. “Who is your teacher, boy?”

Orochimaru ignores him and consults his notes instead. The forbidden scroll had been badly damaged when he’d first found it, and reverse engineering the Impure World Regeneration technique has proven to be more difficult than he’d expected. At least this time he’s managed to recall the original’s personality.

“Answer me when I am speaking to you!”

“Your technique is the one that’s flawed,” Orochimaru states matter-of-factly. “If you want to best me, you’d best help me perfect your jutsu.”

Senju Tobirama opens his mouth to snark something back when he abruptly stiffens, chokes, and shudders violently. He makes no sound when he dies, his skin and hair flaking off and leaving a brown-skinned corpse behind, quickly decaying around Kusanagi, until only the sword is left behind.

“Hm.” Orochimaru writes a little note at the bottom of his mess of papers. “Only a minute this time…his mind was whole, though. One step back, two forward.”

He runs a hand through his hair thoughtfully, frowning when he encounters a snag. He badly needs a shower. How long has he been down here? Orochimaru retrieves his sword, wipes it daintily, and swallows it whole. Even snakes need sunlight, after all.

Sarutobi-sensei greets him aboveground, some hours later. “Orochimaru-kun! I’ve been looking for you. Busy with your research, I assume?”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.” Orochimaru hides his hands in his sleeves and matches his pace to his sensei’s. “What may I help you with?” He’s already working nights for Shimura Danzo-sama, and he’s been helping Tsunade cure cancer in his spare time, and Nawaki is still his student, after all, but despite all the projects sucking up his hours, he will always make time time for his sensei.

“It’s nothing egregious.” Sarutobi-sensei promises. “And what is this formality? Am I not still your sensei?”

“You always will be,” Orochimaru says.

Turns out Sarutobi-sensei just wants to invite him for dinner. His wife Biwako-sama is working late at the hospital, again, and even the Hokage gets lonely when half his children are dead and the other half are abroad. So what if he is the last choice available? Orochimaru finds he has worked up quite an appetite, and acquiesces.

“Tell me about your sensei again, Sensei.”

“Ohou! This again? Do you not tire of hearing me praise him?”

“You said once I was like him,” Orochimaru says simply. “So, no.”

Even Sarutobi-sensei’s eye wrinkles smile. “Very well. Tobirama-sensei was the fiercest and most cunning man alive, ruthless to a fault, but he was also the most brilliant man I’ve ever known…”

Orochimaru soaks the praise indirectly.

Over the next seven sleepless nights, he tweaks and modifies and retries the Reanimation technique with seven different bodies of varying shapes and sizes and chakra types, acquired from places best left unmentioned. Each and every time, Senju Tobirama’s red eyes replace the brown, the black, and blue; his chakra and disapproval fill the room; and each and every time his white hair flakes off to reveal the blue, the black, and brown.

Again.

“How curious,” Senju Tobirama says, and tries to kill him.

And again.

“This is quite incredible,” Senju Tobirama says, and tries to kill him.

And again.

“I have never known another like you,” Senju Tobirama says, and fails to kill him.

Orochimaru soaks the praise directly, but it is not enough. Not yet.

“Sensei, you’re so distracted lately!” Nawaki says, hands on his hips. “Is something wrong?”

“There is always something wrong with me.” Orochimaru elegantly trips his student and pins him to the ground. “Or so I’ve been told. Stop pouting, Nawaki, it is unbecoming of a Senju. Does that bother you? Good. Again!”

The sun rises, and sets, and rises again.

“You’re not at all here,” Tsunade says, sipping her sake. “Am I boring you?”

“Only idiots experience boredom.” Orochimaru positions his rook and neatly consumes her queen. “Check. Hm? Are you angry, Tsunade? Let’s quit this already and go back to the lab. I’ve an idea on how to properly cultivate your grandfather’s cells.”

The moon waxes, and wanes, and grows full again, and one night Shimura Danzo-sama visits his underground lab with a scowl.

“You’ve been sharing highly classified materials with Tsunade-hime, haven’t you? I do not remember allowing this!”

Orochimaru glances at him over the vivisected body of a wind-user, busy inscribing the bones with the seals necessary to bind and sustain Senju Tobirama’s will and sinew. “Did you not? Hm. It must have slipped my mind. Do you require an apology?” He concentrates on his calligraphy, knowing from experience that a single mistake will ruin the technique. “I do not regret my actions, and neither should you, Shimura-sama. Tsunade has helped me understand the mysteries of uncontrolled cell division. Or do you not want Uchiha Kagami-san’s eyes back? Hm?” Orochimaru finishes the inscription, and looks up.

He often has trouble reading expressions, but time and exposure and a good deal of educated guesswork has helped him master his limited ability, and he is rather certain Danzo-sama is furious, but not enough to threaten Orochimaru in a way that might inspire him to end their alliance. As it should be. He gives an oily smile and shows the man out.

At dawn, Senju Tobirama comes back from the dead again, vocally rebuking his audacity.

“Again! How dare you made a mockery of my technique–”

“No,” Orochimaru interrupts. “It’s more my technique now, than yours. Wouldn’t you agree, Nidaime-sama?“

Senju Tobirama’s body lasts three minutes, this time, and his mind another five. Progress is progress, Orochimaru grudgingly tells himself, and starts all over again.

“You’re getting faster,” Orochimaru praises, and Senju Tobirama dies.

“You are getting stronger,” Orochimaru remarks, and Senju Tobirama dies.

“You are becoming more yourself, I think,” Orochimaru says, and watches Senju Tobirama die again.

The next time he is summoned, the Nidaime is quiet, contemplative. Orochimaru cautiously tilts his head to the side. “Nidaime-sama?” Did he mess up the mind-binding scripture?

“I have been wondering this for some time,” Senju Tobirama admits, grudgingly. “How do you still have any samples of my original body left?”

“Hm. Good observation. I should have run out months ago,” Orochimaru reveals. “But I’ve been cloning it.”

“Cloning?” Tobirama crosses his arms. “Chakra duplicates do not work for the Reanimation technique. I remember trying it, and failing. You need the original’s organic material, and to my knowledge that is finite.”

“Yes, I read your notes,” Orochimaru says. “That is how you first created Shadow Clones. But organic material can be duplicated through a process called cell division.” Orochimaru gesticulates laconically. “Specifically, utilizing Senju Hashirama’s cells, which divide uncontrollably. They are functionally immortal, so, using its instructions, I can grow any tissue I so desire an infinite number of times.”

“…Remarkable,” Senju Tobirama says. “I must say, young man, you are a fascinating specimen.”

“As are you,” Orochimaru bows his head. “Nidaime-sama.”

He half expects Tobirama to try to kill him again, but the dead man remains unmoving, staring at Orochimaru. Orochimaru does not really know what that static expression means, only that there is an intensity to it that his instincts say is threatening.

“You say you have my brother’s cells,” Tobirama says. “That they are immortal.”

“For practical purposes, yes,” Orochimaru says.

“Could you…” The Senju uncharacteristically stops, and then starts again. “With his organic material, you could bring him back. Over and over again. Like you have done to me?”

Orochimaru cocks his head. “I could, if I so desired.”

Senju Tobirama opens and closes his fists.

“Do not,” he says simply.

Orochimaru smiles. “Oh? How quaint. I did not know you had such a weakness, Nidaime-sama.”

“Morals are not a weakness,” Tobirama says, and it sounds like he’s quoting someone.

“Love is a prejudice,” Orochimaru says. “Was that not something you used to say?”

Senju Tobirama’s red eyes widen, and then narrow. “Those words…your sensei, the one who used to speak about me. Was he–S–” the words get stuck, and the Nidaime chokes, throat flaking, face flaking, time running out. “S-Saru–”

“Until next time, Nidaime-sama,” Orochimaru says, and kindly runs him through with Kusanagi.

Next time turns out to be a long time. The Great War is usurped by a second, greater war, and he and Tsunade and Jiraiya are deployed to Stone, and Sand, and then Rain, and Jiraiya stays behind, and then Nawaki gets his fool self blown up, and Dan gets himself eviscerated, and Tsunade loses her goddamn mind, and Orochimaru is the only one that makes it home, with about as much damage as he had from the start, and twice the drive to get rid of that bothersome thing called dying.

“You are older,” Senju Tobirama says. “How long has it been?” He tilts his head shrewdly. “Or did you muck up my memories?”

“I am older,” Orochimaru says. “And I tire of death. Do you not?”

“I chose death,” Tobirama reminds him. “And I would very much like to get back to it.”

“We can’t all get what we want,” Orochimaru says snidely.

The months drag on, and Orochimaru divides his time between research with Danzo-sama, who lost a leg, an arm, and an eye to the war, and quality time Tsunade, who lost a brother, a heart, and her will to live. More and more he’s drawn to Danzo, who’s become obsessed with conquering death, who encourages Orochimaru to attempt to overcome decay. Orochimaru tries to rope Tsunade into it, but she’s too busy drowning in liquor and her vices, numerous as they are, determined to self destruct in style. He tires of it. He tires of this village, and its people, and its problems.

“Where have you been, Orochimaru-kun?” The Hokage has aged fifteen years in five, and it shows in his gait, now crooked on the left. “I miss our chats. Do you want to come over for dinner, tonight? I will tell you about Tobirama-sensei, if you like.”

“Thank you but I am busy, Hokage-sama,” Orochimaru says. “Maybe some other time.”

“How is Saru?” Senju Tobirama asks. “You never speak about your sensei. And that seal is crooked. The line must be parallel, or it will fail.”

“Thank you, Nidaime-sama,” Orochimaru says, and fixes the wayward fuinjutsu. “And you never ask about Tsunade, who is your beloved brother’s blood, so why should I indulge you?”

“Hh,” Tobirama shifts uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I never met her.” He frowns. “Unless, I did, and I do not remember? Your Resurrection technique has improved, but perhaps ceaselessly cloning my organic material has corrupted it.”

“It’s a possibility,” Orochimaru says. “I will look into it.” He elegantly finishes his script. “What do you think?”

“I see no fault in it,” Tobirama admits. “I could have done it no better.”

“Such high praise,” Orochimaru says. “I am honoured.” He decides to indulge him, then. “You wish to know about Sarutobi-sensei, yes? He is the wisest fool I know. He’s quite clever, disguising manipulation as kindness. He gathers young and talented shinobi and inspires unbreakable loyalty from them, and then uses them, delegates his many tasks to them, and brings our village great renown.”

“Sarutobi Hiruzen does this?” Tobirama hums. “So that monkey finally took my advice to heart.”

“Honestly? I admire it.” Orochimaru rolls up his scroll. “I would emulate it, if I had his charisma. Alas. I was not born with it.”

“Few ever are,” Tobirama says. “My brother was the most charismatic man I know, but he did not weaponize it, no matter how many times I told him to. He had the presence and power of a God, the following of an organized religion, and the drive to set the world straight, but his brain was the size of an acorn.”

Orochimaru briefly imagines acorn-brained Jiraiya as the God of Shinobi, and laughs. What a terrible mental image.

“Charisma can be trained,” Tobirama says, unexpectedly. “I learned it.”

“Oh?” Orochimaru looks at him curiously. “Will you teach me, Tobirama-sensei?”

“It’s simple, really,” Tobirama says. “Love and loyalty overlap. Save them, or raise them ignorant, and they will not know the difference.”

“Oh.” Orochimaru is a snake that learned to smile. “Hm. But were you not the one who so firmly stated a shinobi must not feel?”

A pained expression crosses Tobirama’s face, and then leaves just as quickly. “I tire of this,” he says, and drives a kunai through his skull, effectively disrupting the Resurrection technique.

“How curious you were,” Orochimaru says to the pile of ash. “Sensei of my sensei.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


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